


Birthday Gift

by Mooncatx



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-06 11:12:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16386770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mooncatx/pseuds/Mooncatx
Summary: Agent Gerard LaCroix is eager to introduce his beautiful fiancee to Strike Force Commander Amari.  He decides to play a little prank on his friend Ana, but the joke may be on him.





	1. Chapter 1

Birthday Present

by Mooncatx the Bliss Crimson

chapter one

 

Strike Force Commander Ana Amari and her Overwatch team were visiting Gerard LaCroix in Paris. He had a new fiancé to show off to his Overwatch cronies, and Ana had her 48th birthday to celebrate.  So they decided to combine the two events, and meet for dinner at a charming restaurant with a patio with a view of the Champs-Élysées. The house wine was full bodied and plentiful. Ana didn’t hold back on enjoying the wine, or laughing and dancing with Gerard.  He was a handsome devil, and he knew it. The way his body moved with hers was as intoxicating as the wine, making Ana feel flushed and hungry for more than wine. Gerard was off limits, she was sure he was so tempting because she could not have him.

 She wondered about the fiancee he was so smug about, who had yet to show.  This ballerina girl of his, Amelie Guillard. Could a wet behind the ears 21 year old really appreciate a man like LaCroix?  Ana had voiced her concerns. The girl was nearly 2 decades younger than Gerard, hardly a year older than her own daughter Fareeha… owch…!  Maybe she was feeling a little jealous? She didn’t feel old tonight, not with her blood rushing hot in her veins. She was sure she could give the little French ballerina a run for her money!  Perhaps she would be doing Gerard a favor by showing him what a mature, in the prime of her life woman, could offer.

 Gerard was only a few years younger than Ana, much closer to her age than his barely out of school bride to be.  He dipped her, the strength of his body was exciting. It was a crying shame he was going to waste it on…

 A flash of red caught Ana’s eye, and Amelie Guillard entered the room like gasoline meeting open flame.  She burned the very air with her presence. She was in a strapless, scarlet dress that was like blood red poppy petals against the pale moonglow of her perfect skin.  Hair a riot of midnight waves cascading over shoulders thrown back in an almost arrogant pose of self confidence. Light brown eyes that were almost amber blazed with intelligence, while lips red as blood curled in amusement.  She hit the senses like a shot of hard whiskey, and burned through reason like liquid fire.

 Ana hardly noticed Gerard leaving the dance floor to go to his intended.  She felt winded, as if from a sudden impact. She felt her world view tilt.  This was not the demure girl she’d been expecting. It wasn’t that the ballerina was a wildly beautiful woman, even though she was undeniably beautiful.  It wasn’t that her presence evoked femme fatale, the way holo dramas liked to paint women who were not the ingenue, or motherly or sisterly supports. It was simply that Amelie was exquisite, in the way a leopardess, or tiger.  The whiskey colored eyes of the dancer shone with the same lights of a feline predator. Ana almost expected them to flash gold with the candle light. There was a dangerous amusement in those predator eyes, and they were fastened... on her?

 “Birthday Girl!” Amelie called out with such spirit, Ana’s heart nearly stopped.  This… girl, she reminded herself, was barely older than Fareeha… And then all thought fled as to Ana’s complete surprise, the dark haired, French girl was on her like a dervish, sudden motion and intensity of purpose, kissing Ana like a long lost lover.  Deeply, passionately… Ana barely heard the roar of laughter and shouts of her teammates and Gerard through the surging rush of blood in her ears. But the sight of Gerard almost collapsing with mirth, released Ana from her moment of paralysis. That and the ballerina had released Ana from the passionate embrace that had all but floored the Overwatch Strike Commander.

 Of all the ongoing laughter, Gerard’s was loudest, as tears squeezed from his eyes.  Ana rounded on the man with a sudden fury. What was Gerard playing at?!

 “Remember, Ana?  My last birthday?  On the Front? Battles raging all around us for weeks on end, but you managed to smuggle in that exotic dancer to show me a good time?” Gerard wiped the tears of laughter from his face and gestured towards his fiancee, “I’m doing you one better!  My Amelie puts any hired girl to shame! Clean, beautiful, she’ll give you a night of passion to haunt your dreams!”

 “You’re a madman, Gerard!  That absinth you like is rotting your brain.” Ana threw at him, knowing now it was only another one ot the prankster’s stunts.  The Frenchman always had a doubtable sense of humor, “Do you think I will not call your bluff, LaCroix? She’s not married to you yet, so she’s still fair game.  All bets are off now. I’ll take your birthday gift home with me tonight, and we’ll see whose nights are haunted.”

 With a fierce grin, more threat than humor, Ana pulled the scarlet clad, dark haired ballerina to her and with a bend of her knees, threw the younger woman over her shoulder.  The Strike Force commander straightened, while Amelie let out a surprised gasp, impressed by the older woman’s strength. Ana smacked the ballerina hard on a soft rounded butt check, and strode out of the cafe, leaving Gerard laughing helplessly behind.  He didn’t believe for a second that Ana would do anything improper with his beautiful Amelie. She had a grown daughter his fiancee’s age after all. What Gerard was not remembering was that Ana Amari did not make idle threats, or promises. An Amari never joked about bedding anyone.  

 

to be continued


	2. Good Morning

Birthday Gift

Chapter 2

 

The rosy glow of dawn painted light over the warm body curled against Ana. Bare limbs, silky soft, slid against the Strike Commander while tender lips pressed kisses against Ana's breast.  Amelie's mouth tasted the Egyptian woman's skin with slow sensuality, lapping, laving, worshipping with lips and tongue. The French ballerina's long, long legs twined with Amari's darker, toned legs. She moaned softly as the firm, muscular thigh of the older woman pressed her own apart, the wet, gleaming smears on Amelie’s inner thighs from quim to knee, testament of a night long session of lovemaking that was not over yet.  

When Gerard had asked her to surprise his fellow Overwatch Commander with a birthday kiss, she’d had a mind to refuse.  Amelie didn’t think Gerard’s pranks were very funny, and she had not wanted to meet Ana Amari on the wrong foot. But he’d shown her the pictures of the other woman, candid shots of Ana and Gerard, and she’d become intrigued.  This woman was so… confident. Her commanding spirit shown, her beauty was as fierce and elemental as the deserts that birthed her. Something in Amelie had wanted to have a taste of this woman that her intended sang such praises.  This… sniper.

When she learned that Strike Force Commander Amari’s specialty was impossible, ranged shots, Amelie had known to her very core that they had to meet.  If there was one thing Amelie loved after dancing itself, it was marksmanship. It had been a shared love with her father, first, then her quiet solace after her parents passed.  When dancing could not quiet the demons with in, the stark simplicity of going out with her father’s rifle, the treasure he’d bequeathed to her, gave her peace. She’d felt an almost spiritual connection to the woman Gerard had introduced her to in pictures and holovids captured on his missions with her.

When she had entered the restaurant, she still had not decided if she’d humor Gerard’s request.  But the moment she saw them dancing together, bodies bold and sensual, moving together, she’d felt it inside, a raw desire for Ana Amari.  She had to know how it would feel to wrap her arms around that strong, female body, and taste her, kiss her, love her. She’d put that into her voice, into her embrace, into her kiss.  

Gerard had thought it a joke.  He’d laughed till he wept. But Amelie hadn’t been joking.  When Ana had thrown her over a strong shoulder, the Strike Force Commander's hand striking her smartly on her bottom, in front of Gerard and everyone in the restaurant.  God… she’d nearly cum right there, right then…

Amelie moaned against Ana’s skin, rubbing her wet, still aching sex against the knee Ana provided. Yes… More… More Ana…

They didn’t say much… phrases of Egyptian, pleading whispers in French… Hunger was their shared language.  Fierce caresses and kisses and fingers stroking in places intimate… They told each other epics in heated pants, and screams of rapture.  

Ana pressed harder with her knee and Amelie mewed in response, almost cumming, but wanting Ana’s fingers in her, stroking her inside. Her own hands slid to clasp Ana’s, bringing them to where she rode the firmness of the older woman’s thigh.

_“J'ai encore envie que tu me baises, je suis pas rassasiée.”_

Ana smiled.  Gerard had managed to teach her a few phrases in French.  Well, a few _filthy_ phrases.  Enough so she understood that Amelie wanted her.  Wanted Ana’s fingers deep in her tight, hungry quim.  Gerard’s fiancee was so hungry, so thirsty for being touched, it startled something in Ana.  Before she’d worried Gerard would be too much for a civilian, for a ballerina. Now she feared he would not be enough.  Oh, LaCroix was a fool. A mad, mad fool. His woman was so alive. She burned with it.

“... _baise-moi, s'il te plaît”_ Amelie begged, pulling away from Ana’s thigh just enough to place the Strike Commander’s fingers to her slick opening.

“S' _te plaît, S'te plaît, S'te plaît, S'te plaît, S'te plaît, S'te plaît_ …”  Amelie was not ashamed to beg.  At least not in bed.

Ana petted Amelie’s drenched sex.  Oh she was close to cumming, there was no doubt.  Ana grinned wickedly, wanting to drag out Amelie’s pretty begging.  She pulled away her knee and spread the French girl’s thighs wide apart, admiring the perfection of the ballerina’s sex.  A frame of dark, short curls. Pretty pink folds, flushed ruddy. A prominent, rosy bud, unhooded and nearly glowing, and an opening that was almost quivering with the need for a lovers touch.  Ana leaned down and kissed Amelie there.

The wordless cry the younger woman made was both appreciation and desperation.  Ana’s mouth continued to kiss and taste Amelie’s quim. Teasing the dark haired beauty till she was babbling, bucking, trying to get more of Ana’s intimate attention, needing more… and was rewarded with two slender fingers sliding in deep, and curling _just right._

Amelie exploded with a keening cry, as her world shattered into a rain of pleasure so intense it was almost pain.  Ana’s name caroled out from her throat and again as the older woman continued to stroke exactly the right spot again, and again…  Milking Amelie’s orgasm so that it bled into another, and yet another… Her whole body shuddered and the universe was only Amelie coming undone on Ana’s fingers… those beautiful, merciless fingers…

Amelie shook as Ana pulled her against the warmth of her body, an Egyptian lullably hummed into her ear.

“ _Habiibtii_ …”

Amelie smiled as she breathed in Ana’s scent.  The musk of sex, the spices and smoke that clung to the older woman’s skin… She suckeled on Ana’s neck, nipping, and tasting her lover.  

“Easy my princess, you’ll mark me.” Ana chidded, but felt a delicious thread of pleasure run from Amelie’s mouth on her neck, straight to her own very wet sex.  When Amelie bit harder, it was like the thread was pulled tight, and Ana’s quim pulsed with desire. The ballerina was a witch… or a vampire. The pleasure of her bite made everything in Ana sing with desire. Gerard had no idea what he was in for, with such a succubus for a bride.  She’d make him go blind for sure if their lovemaking were even half as intense.

Ana pushed the younger woman away so that she could look at Amelie’s face.  The ballerina’s gaze was heavy lidded with satisfaction, her lips in a wanton smile, the scarlet lipstick long since worn away on skin and bedsheets, were still a delicious rosy color, swollen with kisses, ripe and decadent.  Ana gasped as a slender, silky thigh, rubbed sensuously between her own. The minx! French fingertips teased at Ana’s pleasure bud, rubbing the slickness that could have been hers, or Amelie’s, gently over the sensitive nub, causing Ana’s hips to buck in involuntary reflex.  

Amelie was so much stronger than she looked.  A ballerina’s strength. She rolled Ana on her back, and worshipped the older woman’s full breasts.  A mother’s breasts. There was a softness to these beautiful swells tipped with dark, cinnamon hue nipples.  Amelie filled her mouth with the bounty of Ana’s tit, and suckled, while Ana’s body arched and a wordless sound escaped the Egyptian woman.  Amelie feasted on Ana’s breasts and played a symphony of pleasure with her fingers inside Ana’s heated, wet sex. From the way Ana shuddered, Amelie found the sweet spots that made the Strike Commander come undone.  Amelie trailed her mouth lower, feasting between Ana’s thighs, drinking her, sucking her, tongue deep into the older woman, while her fingers stroked.

Amelie loved the taste of Ana’s quim, loved how the older woman was moaning so deeply as Amelie buried her face into her, licking so deeply, fingering Ana’s special places with teasing, torturing, pleasuring caresses.  When Ana started cumming, Amelie showed no mercy, even as she was drenched with Ana’s orgasm, the ballerina strove to lick even deeper, fingers gently but relentlessly stroking Ana’s sensitive bud. She would stretch Ana’s orgasm till the older woman’s entire body shook apart…

Ana gripped Amelie’s head, shaking as she came… oh the girl was a devil…   oh god… oh god… and Ana came… and came…

The world rushed away in waves of white light, in sensations so intense Ana couldn’t take anymore…  Her body collapsed, her lungs heaving for breath…

A soft kiss…  the taste of herself on Amelie’s lips as they kissed gently, slowly…  Amelie’s hands stroking the curve of Ana’s hip.

To be continued? hmmm...


End file.
